She raises her hands placatingly. "It's alright, it's alright. Why don't I take you to Hawthorne Cottage and get you set up in one of the spare rooms, and we'll talk after you've had a while to recover. It'll give me time to handle the paperwork."

He twitches slightly at the raised hands - even if he is out of arms reach currently. He nods again. "I- ah, yes, ma'am?" (Getting some rest does sound...nice? Even if he's not entirely sure he trusts that that's what's meant...)

"All right. You four," she says to the others, "stay here."

Then she waves her hands, trailing blue sparks behind them, and they're in a different place. It's a room, white and somewhat clinical-looking, with a bed and a window and a little fireplace full of wood. There's also an intricately patterned rug on the floor, and a small stuffed bear on the bed.

"Nothing in this room is vulnerable to temperatures below two thousand degrees Fahrenheit," Ms. Carson says. "Except the wood in the fireplace, obviously. Which is there in case you are more comfortable around fire, in which case you can set it on fire. On the off-chance that you are able to damage anything in this room, we will be impressed, not upset. I'll leave you here for... let's say nine hours. If you want to speak to me any sooner than that, simply press the button by the door and I'll be happy to talk. Someone will bring food in a few minutes. Any questions?"

He startles at suddenly being in a new place, and twists his fingers slightly harder - a flicker of flames goes over them before he can stop it. He looks around a little wildly (it's strange, missing the presence of the four teens he'd just met today, but they'd been nice to him, hadn't hurt him).

"I-" He goes still, looking around the room. "Ah- duties, ma'am?"

She considers this question. "Your duties will be to eat until you feel full, paying attention to whether you feel sick from overeating at any point and stopping immediately if you do, and then to try to go to sleep. Is that a useful framing for you?"

-It doesn't feel like enough, but he doesn't know how to say that, and-

-And right now, he doesn't have the energy to try and explain, so he just nods - more acquiesance than agreement.

Ms. Carson nods, waves her hands again, and vanishes.

Very shortly after, someone opens the door. He's dark-skinned, agonizingly thin, about eight feet tall but hunched slightly, with long arms tipped with savage claws extending from his shoulders and a secondary set of more normal arms extending from his chest. His legs are digitigrade, and he has a long barbed tail. He has spikes running down his spine, and coming out of the backs of his knees, and on both sets of elbows. His eyes are solid black. He's also holding a large tray piled high with food, which he lays on the end table by the bed.

"Enjoy," he says mildly. "Headmistress just said to get food, no specifics, so I tried to get some of everything, on the assumption that something would be appropriate and that if you had allergies she'd have told me."

Nova stares at the amount of food. "I- ah- there's- I don't need-" He shivers slightly and wraps his arms around himself.

He winces. "You definitely need it. Not all of it, not unless you're an Energizer of some description, but you're almost as skinny as I am."

"Haven't done anything to earn it?"

The monster-boy shakes his head slowly. "Not how this works. Louis, little help?"

An entirely ordinary-looking man of about thirty pops his head around the doorframe. "Hmm. Nova, when Elizabeth told you to eat, she didn't think it was going to be an easy task, but she did tell you to try. Would it help if Peter here ate what you didn't, so you don't feel it's being wasted?"

He glances between them, shaking slightly, a moment where he was trying to work out if this was a trick, a test, if there was something intended and-

"Ah- I-" He shivers again, instinct telling him to drop to his knees, and when he takes half a step closer to the end table, his knees sort of...give way. He's not sure if it's instinct, or exhaustion, but it lands him on his knees on the floor and he doesn't bother trying to get back up.

"Maybe?" he manages to say anyway, hoping it's the right answer.